It is rather sweet of him to be so in tune with my body and concerned about me, but I don’t want to stop. In response, my fingers wind through his belt buckle, unfastening it and making quick work of his buttons and zipper, my hand diving beneath his briefs to grasp his cock faster than I think he expected me to.
A low groan escapes Cain’s lips.
And I smile. Ben was so very wrong. There’s nothing Hobbit-sized or malformed here. Cain is perfect.
“What’s wrong—you sure you’re okay with this?” I tease, stroking his length, feeling the drops of moisture at the tip. Drops for me. I pull my hand out and make a point of licking my thumb as I peer up at him from beneath heavy lashes. “Are you nervous?”
He chuckles. Though it’s not unpleasant, there’s a hint of wickedness in the sound that I haven’t heard from him before. “Is this a new game of yours? Okay, Charlie, you know I like to play your games.” Shifting out of my grasp, Cain’s hands work my dress down to my ankles and off. “I was going to let you keep this on, but . . .” Standing, he folds my dress into a neat pile and tucks it under my head like a pillow. Then, he resumes his perch on one knee, admiring my body without reservation. I don’t doubt that the moonlight overhead is providing ample light for his perusal. I refuse to cower under his scrutiny, though this is both the most erotic and the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever experienced. “Does Security ever walk down here?” I ask, unable to mask the apprehension in my voice.
His hands move to my thighs. He pushes my legs farther apart, lifting one up to rest on the back of the bench while he urges the other one down, to dangle off the edge. Despite my attempts to act nonchalant, I inhale sharply, my body beginning to ache, searching for some relief, both from him and this compromising position.
“They won’t tonight. I’ve made sure of it. I wouldn’t do this with you out here, otherwise.” I trust that he wouldn’t, which makes me relax, marginally. With the high, thick wooden rails around us and the small structure that serves as a barrier behind us, we are invisible to everyone.
Still . . .
I don’t know many guys who could just sit there and study a naked woman spread out like I am, especially given that I’ve just confirmed that Cain is rock hard and dripping. But this is what I get for trying to tease a man with the self-control of a machine.
I lie there, watching him—fully dressed—stare at me with a low, intense burn within those brown eyes for what is probably only a minute but feels like an eternity. Finally, that curl that I love touches his lips. “I’m not afraid to admit that I’m a little nervous, Charlie.” I gasp as I feel a single finger trail slowly down my center, my body tensing up. “Can you admit that? Or are you going to continue lying?”
Cain is nervous? Panty-dropping hot Cain, who has women literally throwing themselves at him, is nervous about being with me? “Yes, I am,” I finally whisper.
“Good. I know when you’re lying, Charlie, so you may as well just come out and tell me.” I feel the guilt trying to claw its way back to the forefront of my every thought, my every word, with his warning. But then his fingers slide over me a second time, through the increasing slickness, and the guilt instantly retreats. “Do you know how stunning you are?” My breath catches as I feel the welcomed intrusion, his fingers moving in a slow circular motion as he watches my body respond.
I close my eyes just as his touch vanishes and the heat of his breath skates over me. I let out a tiny cry as I feel his tongue against me, replacing the work of his hands.
It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. My fingers once again find their way to his silky hair as I feel him moan against me, as his hands grip my thighs, as I bite my lip to keep from screaming out. All the intensity of those nights—the daydreams, the dances for Cain—combined with the reality that he is here now, with me, have produced a storm inside me that’s ready to erupt.
Arching my back against the pleasure of his tongue—delving and sliding with expertise and specific intentions—I feel a familiar buildup in my lower belly. It doesn’t take long before Cain’s arms tighten around my body to keep me still as he finishes me off, and I have to grit my teeth to keep from giving the security guards a play-by-play.
There’s no tension, no modesty left in me when I’m done and Cain’s lips move up to trail kisses along my belly, my breasts, my neck. When he reaches my mouth, he doesn’t hesitate to lay a gentle kiss, even though I can taste myself on him.
I’ve never tasted that. I’ve had guys go down on me before, but it felt like required foreplay before sex; it wasn’t done half as well, and never to orgasm.
I’ve never orgasmed with a guy. Period. Though I don’t think it’s all that surprising; I am only eighteen. I’m getting the impression that I could experience just about everything with Cain if I had more time.
Sliding a hand beneath my shoulders, Cain pulls me up and onto his lap again, his erection digging into me, making it abundantly clear what he wants. What I’m willing to give him. As he leans forward to pull his wallet from his back pocket, my mouth affixes itself to the side of his neck—to that sensitive spot where the tattoo is—and my eager fingers work the buttons of his shirt to reveal the sculpted body beneath it. I’ve been dying to touch it again since that day in my old apartment. Now, I marvel at how hot his skin is as I press my own bare chest up against it.
When I hear the tear of the foil packet, I decide to help him out by pulling him out of his briefs, my warm hands quickly wrapping around his length to begin stroking.“Easy, Charlie. I’m about to explode,” he growls as he lifts me up on my knees again. As he quickly frees himself of his pants by tugging them down past his thighs, I eagerly wait while he slides a condom on.
The agile, forceful Cain returns, grabbing my hips and moving them into position over him. He doesn’t ask if I’m sure anymore. He doesn’t ask if I’m nervous. He simply locks eyes with me as he pushes himself inside me smoothly—stretching me, filling me completely. He’s almost too much for me and I have to breathe through the pressure.
When he’s buried deep inside me, he stops moving and pulls me to his mouth, catching my gasp with his lips, stealing my air, my thoughts, my everything.
And then we begin moving against each other.
It’s a slow cadence at first, his hands gripping my hips to dictate the speed he wants. I’m fine with slow because I’m still sensitive, and having him inside me is just plain overwhelming.
It doesn’t take long for my body to accept him, though, and when it does, our momentum quickly accelerates, his thrusts becoming harder, his kisses hungrier, his size inside me swelling even more.
I finally break away from his mouth and push his hands away from my hip, locking eyes with him as I offer him a teasing smile as I take control of the rhythm, my own strong leg muscles working for him. He leans back, his lips parted, watching my body move beneath hooded eyes. His hand finds its way back and I’m about to swat it again, until I realize it’s not there to dictate my movements. It’s there to make sure I’m getting full pleasure from this as well.
“Charlie . . .” I hear the name in his whisper, the desire in it, and I truly wish it were my name he was calling out. Reaching up with his free hand, he curls his fingers around the back of my neck. He tugs my tongue into his mouth in a demanding kiss, smothering a deep moan as I feel his body stiffen, as I feel him pulsing inside me.
I did that for Cain. Me. I turned him on that much. That realization tears a second orgasm out of me almost instantly and I can’t help but cry out.
Not until his hips stop and his breathing slows to a heavy pant do our lips break free of each other. I curl my naked body—coated with a thin sheen of sweat now—into his chest, with him still inside me. Large, strong arms wrap me and I feel his lips pressed against my forehead. He makes no move to pull out, seemingly content to stay right where he is.
I marvel at this new versi
on of Cain I have discovered. He’s not the hard, aggressive man that I’ve fantasized about. He’s not the emotional Cain I experienced last night.
He’s aggressive and emotional. He’s the best of both worlds. A guy I will crave incessantly when I’m gone.
“I promise, next time will be in a comfortable bed, Charlie,” I hear him murmur softly. I fight to keep my body from tensing at his words but I can’t, and I’m sure he feels it. Letting my mouth fall open against his neck, I greedily accept that I want a next time. I want it desperately. I want it now.
It was probably a mistake to let this happen.
■ ■ ■
The beginnings of dawn light the sky as Cain walks me to my apartment door. He casually suggested going back to his condo but I declined, barely able to get the excuses past the stabbing lump in my throat.
I have a dentist’s appointment.
I need to go grocery shopping.
I need to take my SUV in.
Lies. All lies.
He didn’t push, though, and I don’t know if it’s because the suggestion was not meant to be serious or because he took my excuses as a refusal of him. Or because he truly can tell when I’m lying to him and it pisses him off.
The car ride home was unusually silent and, as exhausted as I am after not sleeping for two days, as sated as I am, I almost fell asleep. If not for that sickness churning inside me the moment I pulled my dress on at the pier, I might have.
As I slide my key into the lock and push the door open, I sense Cain’s body step closer to me and I’m afraid he’s going to invite himself into my apartment. Afraid because I’ll have to send him away. Afraid because I would so much rather hold him close.
“Charlie?”
I grit my teeth for just a moment before I pull on a mask. Or try to. My adrenaline has finally worn off, leaving an empty shell of a girl who has experienced too many crippling emotions in the past thirty-six hours—both the best and the worst. I can’t even think straight. Thankfully, I’m too tired to cry; otherwise I’d be bawling my eyes out now.
I’m exactly where I was yesterday morning, only now the ache in my heart is all the more pronounced.
Finally, I turn around to face Cain, to soak in those warm brown eyes that peer down at me, his apprehension poorly veiled within them. “Thank you for tonight, Cain,” I begin, but I choke. Composing myself with a swallow, I manage to get out, “Thank you . . . for everything.” Why can’t I keep it together? Just for a little longer, dammit!
A deep furrow skitters across his forehead, but he smooths it over. “My friend Storm is having a small get-together at her house this afternoon. Kind of a celebration for her fiancé, Dan.” He holds his phone up absently. “Just got the text. Anyway . . .” His voice drifts off as his eyes drift down to my mouth. “You should come.”
I give him a pathetic attempt at a smile. “Sure, I’ll think about it.” I’ll think about it as I’m boarding the bus.
Something that looks like disappointment flashes in his eyes and I balk at the swift kick of guilt to my stomach. “Okay, Charlie.” He leans down to brush his lips against my cheek, close to my mouth but not landing there, as if unsure that I would allow it.
I don’t hesitate to turn toward him to steal one last kiss, to try to convey with my body how much he has come to mean to me in a short period of time, how much I wish this could continue.
How much I will miss him.
A powerful arm coils around my waist as he crushes me against his body, matching and raising my level of passion with his own as he dips me back, forcing my mouth wide as his tongue dives in.
Cain doesn’t seem to have any speed except “intense.” Combining that with my own personal turmoil is a disaster waiting to happen. I close my eyes and let myself sink within his strength as I lose myself in him yet again, as the familiar burn begins to course through my body.
At some point, my knees buckle and I find I can’t lift my eyelids. I barely hear the door close as I become weightless within Cain’s arms. The soft cushion of my mattress is like a cloud as Cain lays me down.
“Charlie, where are your sheets?” I hear him ask, but I don’t answer.
They’re packed in my suitcase, which is sitting idly in the corner.
Waiting for me.
A moment later there’s a hand smoothing the hair off my forehead. “Get some sleep.”
“Okay,” I murmur with a sigh, though I’m still fighting against the sweet pull of oblivion that beckons me to relent. I’m supposed to be leaving in a few hours, but I do need sleep. Just a few hours and then I’ll go. “Goodbye, Cain.” I can’t drive anywhere right now . . .
■ ■ ■
Someone is pounding on my door.
My body feels like it’s chained to my bed as I drag it up, reluctant to leave the comfort of sleep, even from a bare mattress.
“Charlie! Open up!” It’s Ginger and she sounds frantic. Worry blooming inside me, I stagger out to the front door in a rush, throwing it open without caution.
“You’re alive!” she exclaims, stalking past me, into my apartment. The ties of her colorful bathing-suit top poke out beneath a red-and-white striped sundress. “It’s the fourth time I’ve come by today. I thought you were dead! Go and get ready.”
“What?” I scratch my head absently, picking through my blurry memories. Get ready for what?
“It’s after three o’clock and we’re going to Storm’s.”
After three o’clock? “What?” I don’t believe her. Dashing over to dig my phone out of my purse, I confirm with a rising bubble of panic that she’s not lying. No . . . I need to get to the bank and then sell my car and then . . . leave Miami. I won’t have enough time!
Ginger makes herself comfortable on my couch, remote in hand, twirling a hot-pink strand of hair. And I know that, short of agreeing to go with her, it will take a fire or a forklift to get her to leave. Her eyes drift over the flowers adorning my table. “Those are gorgeous. Who are they from?”
“No one,” I mutter absently as I stagger back to my bedroom and shut the door. Falling back against it with a sigh, I close my eyes. What do I do?
I know that if I could shake Ginger, I could still make it work. I’d just be arriving in a foreign state and town in the middle of the night. I check the burner phone sitting in my purse, a twinge of anxiety stirring that I could have missed a call from Sam.
No missed calls. I release a sigh.
What if . . . could I stay for another day? I mean, is there really any danger in staying for just one more day? I have weeks before I can expect another drop request and Bob couldn’t even get into Penny’s if he wanted to cause me harm before then. And Sam is . . . I have to believe he wouldn’t harm me on a whim or a hunch, even as paranoid as he is. I’m too valuable to him. I’m his unsuspicious pawn.
He’d come down here first. He’d visit me in person, see for himself. I have to believe that. After all, he did raise me. That has to account for something.
My resolve dissipates in seconds, as if it were never there. Or maybe it was, up until last night. The swirling nausea in the pit of my stomach finally relents to a burst of anticipation. Throwing open my suitcase, I quickly root through my clothes for my bathing suit.
Suddenly, I can’t get to Storm’s fast enough.
chapter twenty-five
■ ■ ■
CAIN
“Hey, stranger!” Storm greets me at the door, wearing an apron and a beaming grin. “I’m glad you could make it on such short notice.” After claiming a tight hug, she rubs my biceps affectionately. Storm touches me a lot. I don’t welcome the contact from others, but from Storm, I don’t mind. I know it’s a completely platonic gesture and, from her—one of my very best friends—it actually relaxes me.
Surveying her apron—one that reads Warning: Woman Grilling—I pat my s
tomach and ask, “What’s for dinner?” Feeding people is Storm’s passion and she’s an excellent cook. They’ve joked about installing a revolving door for all the people who pass in and out of their Miami beach house on a regular basis.
“Homemade burgers and lots of other stuff. Enough for a crowd, and there seems to be one quickly growing around here.” There’s a pause and then, “So tell me . . . Are you or aren’t you with this alluring new dancer?”
“Thirty seconds in the door, Storm. And I don’t remember you being a gossip,” I toss back. Inside, my guts are twisting. I don’t know what the hell happened this morning. After what I can only describe as the kind of mind-blowing sex that sated every fiber of my body and soul in a way that no other woman ever has, Charlie shut me out.
I expected her to gladly accompany me to my place, to my shower, to my bed.
To eagerly continue where we left off.
But the only thing she seemed eager to do was get away from me. She started stumbling over her words, offering weak excuses. Practically begging me to drive her home.
Confusing the hell out of me.
In fairness, she was so exhausted that she practically passed out in my arms and was out cold within a minute of me laying her onto her bed. I know because I sat beside her and watched her drift off, pushing her gorgeous blond hair off her face, worrying that I should wake her up to take those damn contacts out, searching for pricey bedsheets that I couldn’t find.
Still, exhausted or not, something didn’t feel right about the way we left things. Maybe everything I told her started sinking in and she freaked out. Maybe I should have taken her back to my condo instead of letting that happen on the pier. I couldn’t help myself, though.
I lay in bed for hours, analyzing every second, every word that escaped her mouth. Every moan . . .
And I still can’t make sense of it.
God, I hope I see her today.
Ginger promised that she’d do what she could to get Charlie here. Now I guess I’ll just have to wait. And dodge Storm’s interrogation.